A Flash of Fire and Ice
by itakethewords
Summary: A series of one shot, quick drabble-esque stories inspired by the Flash Fiction Fridays at the Bewitching Fiction community. Weekly prompts with a set of rules with various characters, pairings, situations, and the possibilities of AU, OOC, non-compliance, etc.
1. Bloody Brilliant

**Author's Note:** _This is going to be a series of one shot, quick drabble-esque stories inspired by the Flash Fiction Fridays at the Bewitching Fiction community. (Honestly, if you haven't already been to chat with us or read things, please do! We love new people and are super friendly!) Each week a new prompt is given and in 30 minutes, we have to write as much as possible on the prompt. For the sake of practicality, things posted here get cleaned up afterward, as most edits aren't to be done unless it's in the 30 minutes during the event. Any characters, any implied or obvious pairings, possibilities of AU, OOC, spoilers, non-compliance, etc. can occur. I'll try my best to state any warnings since some like those kinds of things...warnings. I may not post here weekly, I may save some and post all at once. Best way to read them weekly is obviously to come over to Bewitching Fiction._

* * *

 **A Flash of Fire and Ice**

 **Prompt #1:** Kiss

 **Title** : _Bloody Brilliant_

 **Primary Location** : Bewitching Fiction

 **Word Count** : approx. 561

 **Time** : 30 minutes

 **Warnings** : Non-compliant to traditional pairings

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Contrary to what Harry had told Ron and Hermione by the fire in the common room, Cho Chang hadn't been his first kiss. Everything else had been the truth. It was wet, kind of awkward. But someone else had taken his first kiss weeks before. Whether it had been an accident, on purpose, or some kind of cosmic joke he wasn't sure. Regardless, it had happened and he found himself wishing for another.

Afterwards, Hermione had been sitting in the common room on her own, the last embers in the fire struggling to survive the late hour when Harry had come down from the dormitories. Unable to sleep, he sat next to her and wordlessly rested his head on her shoulder. Her only acknowledgement had been to rest her cheek on his hair a moment before giving her attention back to the revisions in front of her. After a spell of silence she whispered,

"You don't really like Cho that way, do you? After all that hullabaloo last year, you realized this?"

Harry was glad he had he face hidden from Hermione. The blush on his cheeks was hot, but he knew she could feel the heat through her blouse.

"I also happen to know that wasn't your first kiss, Harry. I _saw_ you…"

Shooting across the couch, Harry stared wide-eyed at his best friend. She kept her eyes on her parchment, but was unable to keep a small smile from her lips. Gauging her body language, he could feel no anger or disgust from her. Just amusement and affection.

"You didn't say anything?"

Her eyes parted with the parchment and her brown met his green ones. Brow raised in incredulity, she snorted in disbelief.

"It was none of my business, Harry. Who you snog, whom you fancy. I'll support you, if you think it's the right feeling. I'll also be there should it end in ultimate heartbreak." She smiled wider. "My emotional range is at least ten times larger than Ron's, you know."

Harry found himself smiling, shoulders sagging in relief. He hadn't realized just how worried he'd been about his friends' reactions. He should have known he could have faith in Hermione and her steadfast loyalty and support. Ron… That would be another hurdle best eased into. But for now, Harry found himself content for the first time that year. Even if it was to be short lived, it was nice to feel so peaceful.

"So…" Hermione began, grinning more like a Cheshire cat as Harry moved back to his spot next to her. He kept his eyes locked with hers, a little fearful of what she had to say. "What kind of kisser is Draco Malfoy?"

Harry sputtered, flushing a violent crimson. Hermione couldn't help but to giggle, barely covering her laugh with her hand before Harry pushed her over in embarrassment. Squawking in surprise, she grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him down with her to the ground. The two groaned in pain, landing, on top of one another. Silence except the the laughter of the two Gryffindors echoed through the room. After the hysterics died down, they managed the climb back on the couch, facing one another.

"Harry, you're my best friend. Never doubt I'll be here for you."

"Thank you, Hermione." He paused, lost in thought a moment. "He's bloody brilliant. The prat."

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 **A/N:** _I am a fan of Japanese manga, anime, and language, and of course reviews. Thanks for reading!_


	2. Mum Knows Best

**Author's Note:** _This is going to be a series of one shot, quick drabble-esque stories inspired by the Flash Fiction Fridays at the Bewitching Fiction community. (Honestly, if you haven't already been to chat with us or read things, please do! We love new people and are super friendly!) Each week a new prompt is given and in 30 minutes, we have to write as much as possible on the prompt. For the sake of practicality, things posted here get cleaned up afterward, as most edits aren't to be done unless it's in the 30 minutes during the event. Any characters, any implied or obvious pairings, possibilities of AU, OOC, spoilers, non-compliance, etc. can occur. I'll try my best to state any warnings since some like those kinds of things...warnings. I may not post here weekly, I may save some and post all at once. Best way to read them weekly is obviously to come over to Bewitching Fiction._

* * *

 **A Flash of Fire and Ice**

 **Prompt #2:** A Letter

 **Title** : _Mum Knows Best_

 **Primary Location** : Bewitching Fiction

 **Word Count** : approx. 919

 **Time** : 30 minutes

 **Warnings** : Non-compliant to traditional pairings, character death

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He'd been left a letter on the bed. Though, knowing her, it was really almost novel-like and was thorough in detail. The envelope had been thick, heavy with pages of parchment weighed down with ink. Her wax seal had been easy to break, crumbling under the simple wandless spell he murmured. The bed creaked under his weight as he sat on the edge, preparing himself to read her last words.

He was right when he thought it to be a novel. It was her story. Their story. Even bits scribbled in the margins from him. It glossed over much of her early years of Hogwarts, the whole wizarding world knew about the near death experiences caused by evil wizards with her two best friends. The words became stronger, more confident when it talked about her adulthood and her aspirations. Starting out in the Ministry campaigning for magical creatures, becoming disillusioned with how stubborn the ancient society was regarding equal rights. She came to work for the growing empire that was Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in the back with bookkeeping and development. The slow fall and rise that was the love between her and his father.

Her letter was written in simple, neat script that didn't show her age as of yesterday. Just shy of one hundred and one, she had been spry and quick up until last summer when her cauldron unexpectedly belched neon pink gas. His father took it hard, watching her become just a little more forgetful and her reflexes just a tad slower. Given how long the letter was, she'd been writing it, adding to it, since the accident. Which meant she knew the outcome. His mum was a clever witch. Intending to read it later with his father, he went to gather the pages and fold the parchment, but a section addressed to him caught his eye.

 _Arthur,_

 _I know mushy things aren't something that you want to hear. Especially when it comes to your parents. But I want you to know this, because I can see the wavering questions in your eyes every time a relationship doesn't work out for you and every time you see your father and I together. You and your siblings are proof that love knows no bounds and that love and fondness only grow over time, that it doesn't lay flat and die out. You're the youngest of five, we had you later in life, Arty. I know that you struggle, but for once, stop overthinking things and just let things run its course. If I kept overthinking things, I wouldn't have given your father a chance and naturally, none of you would be here today. I also know that you should just give Adrian a chance, regardless of him being a "bloody flighty Quidditch player" as you've so eloquently muttered to yourself. Yes, I knew and your father knows. Just who do you think we are? He's actually a good man if you'd stop thinking all Quidditch players are the same._

 _I love you dearly and all I've ever wished for your is your happiness. It's one of the few things parents really want from their children. To see all the love and care they've put in come out and manifest in a positive life. Now quit reading this, march yourself to the Floo and go talk to Adrian. And give this to your father on your way out._

Arthur Fred Weasley found himself following his mother's orders, hastily stuffing the letter into its envelope and marching to the door. Even at thirty-five, his mother's tone, the one he could feel oozing from the ink, had him standing straight and abandoning hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he gave a quiet laugh at himself and ran a hand through his curly red hair.

"Where have you been, Art?" Fred Weasley stood in the massive library he'd made for his wife decades ago, a cup of tea in one hand and his twin daughters standing at the other. Both women's eyes were red rimmed, cheeks tear stained, and holding hands for comfort.

"Found a letter on your bed from Mum." He waived the thick envelope as he handed it to his father. "There was a bit for me, a proper dressing down from her. She wanted you to have it, Dad."

The elder Weasley took the envelope with care, his face showing surprise. "She was always good at her charms. Must have hid it until a proper trigger unlocked the magic on the paper." A soft smile graced Fred's lips, making him look years younger. The hood of grief that shadowed his eyes disappeared for a moment, replaced with tenderness.

It was in that moment that Arthur could see what his mother, Hermione Jean Weasley, meant when she said love never died. Despite her passing, even with it just yesterday, the amount of love in his father's eyes was no less than it had been last week or last year. And for the first time in his life, he decided to abandon his thought process and just go with what felt right.

"Where are you going, Arty?" Ophelia asked. She glanced at her twin, who stepped aside for her brother to get to the fireplace. Katarina shrugged.

"Something I should have done a long time ago. Adrian Longbottom, London flat!"

Fred looked up from the letter in his hand, barking a laugh through the watery eyes he was fighting back. "Go on, then Art. Listen to your mum one last time."

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 **A/N:** _I enjoy hot chocolate, the smell of a well loved book, and a kind word left in a review. Thanks for reading!_


	3. Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:** _This is going to be a series of one shot, quick drabble-esque stories inspired by the Flash Fiction Fridays at the Bewitching Fiction community. (Honestly, if you haven't already been to chat with us or read things, please do! We love new people and are super friendly!) Each week a new prompt is given and in 30 minutes, we have to write as much as possible on the prompt. For the sake of practicality, things posted here get cleaned up afterward, as most edits aren't to be done unless it's in the 30 minutes during the event. Any characters, any implied or obvious pairings, possibilities of AU, OOC, spoilers, non-compliance, etc. can occur. I'll try my best to state any warnings since some like those kinds of things...warnings. I may not post here weekly, I may save some and post all at once. Best way to read them weekly is obviously to come over to Bewitching Fiction._

* * *

 **A Flash of Fire and Ice**

 **Prompt #4:** _Unrequited Love_

 **Title** : _Unfinished Business_

 **Primary Location** : Bewitching Fiction

 **Word Count** : approx. 1154

 **Time** : 30 minutes

 **Warnings** : _Character death compliant with canon, non-canon but unmentioned details laid to plan_

* * *

Of course he had unfinished business.

Naturally, it was why he'd become a ghost. He was young when he died, barely starting the prime of his life, and had so many more things he'd wanted to do with his brother. There had been carefully laid plans, barely sketched out ideas, and the opportunities to fly off into the unknown. But deep down, he knew that those things were not the primary reason he'd become a ghost. No, it was because he'd never gotten the chance to say anything to the girl he'd loved for years and his last thought before his body gave up had been a deep regret.

In the moments before the corridor had been blasted, despite the danger he'd laughed at the idea of Percy making jokes in the middle of dueling the Death Eater Minister of Magic. As the explosion rocked the corridor, his ears were filled with the sounds of rock against rock, screams of pain and surprise, and the flow of the blood in his veins. He'd felt weightless seeing his brother act more like his brother than he had in years. As the rock and stone from Hogwarts came down on his, the weight took his breath away. Not a physical weight, but rather the crushing realization that he was about to die.

In his mind, he apologized to George. The moments the year before where he thought he'd lose his brother in the seven Potters melee, he felt as though someone was threatening to rip his soul away. And here he was going the same, for real, to him. _Sorry, Georgie._

But out loud, his lips couldn't help but to utter a different name.

"Hermione…"

The moment the air left his body for the last time, he could see himself buried under the rubble. Unmoving and quiet. He was able to look down, then around as Percy and Ron ran towards his body. Realizing what had happened took no time at all, he floated to where he knew Hermione had been and watched as she dug herself out from the chunks of debris.

Somewhere in his jumbled thoughts, he was mixed up and confused. Ecstatic and devastated all at once. Relived that she was still alive and utterly sad, in a way. Sad that she wouldn't be joining him and that he'd missed yet another opportunity to say something to her he should have said before she'd disappeared with his brother and Harry.

But as Hermione passed through him and reached out for Harry's hand, he realized that he wasn't corporeal and she had no idea he was here and watching her. And it was like she was plunging a knife in his chest and he couldn't breathe all over again.

He hovered over her as his family took his body to the Great Hall, as she tried following Harry to the Forbidden Forest, and as the seemingly dead body of Harry Potter was brought in front of the resistance against Voldemort. He could feel the grief, desperation, and disbelief radiating off of her. They mirrored his own.

After the battle, as Voldemort's body turned to ash and the weary survivors dispersed. he found Hermione and Ron in a secluded corner of the Great Hall, whispering and snuggled up close for comfort. For a moment, he could feel his existence flicker. For the blink of an eye, he was corporeal. He could be misinterpreting things, but he was certain in that moment at least, that his feelings wouldn't have been returned.

It was in the way they sat next to each other, but found a way to easily meld into seemingly one being. The way Ron held her hand and she leaned her ear to his lips when he murmured. And the way that, despite being in a hall filled with people mourning death and relieved at having survived, they were in their own world.

Fred wished he could have these things, the comfort of her body against his. He wished that he could whisper things in her ear, to feel the heat of her skin on his lips. To be the cause of a blush on her cheek or smile on her mouth.

Instead, Fred floated away, past the ruins of the staircase and the people sitting in shock along what was left of the steps. As he wandered the corridors, he could see evidence of the battle and the memories of the halls perfectly intact dueling in his mind's eye. Of times where Hermione found him and George with first year's, furiously chastising them for using their brilliant magic for manipulating children. And just outside of the remains of the Gryffindor common room, his memory of Hermione smiling big at him and him alone as he asked her advice on the daydream charms.

"Mr Weasley, my boy. What happened?"

Fred turned and saw Nearly-Headless Nick standing in shock. Surely seeing a former student as a ghost warranted the surprise. But of the two, Fred could say he was probably the winner. Nick carried his head, free from the last tendrils of neck that once held it on firmly.

"Curse struck the school structure and crushed me. Nick, what happened to you?"

"A marvelous thing happened! A cursed blade was thrown at an Order member and it passed through me. The blade finished severing my head from my body and protected that man as well. Do you know what this means?"

Fred, lost on why he was so happy, shook his head. Who is thrilled when a cursed blade touches their body? No one sane. His mind flickered back to Hermione for a moment, but he shook her from his thoughts.

"It means my application for the Headless Hunt will be approved! I can fulfill my afterlife dream and leave Hogwarts to join the revelry!"

"But if you join the Hunt, who will be Gryffindor's house ghost?" Fred frowned.

Nick grew thoughtful a moment, his smile fading. "Good point. Though…" He paused, giving the new ghost a once over. "Clearly you'll be here a while. My boy, given the other ghosts agree, you could always take my place."

Days later, Fred decided to take the mantle of Gryffindor's resident ghost. It would be some time before students would be back in the halls, but he was more than happy to assist those who would be coming to aid in rebuilding in the coming months. He resolved himself that, instead of pining for what he couldn't have, he would protect those who had something precious to them. It might kill him from time to time on the inside, but Fred vowed to watch over the children of Hogwarts. Gryffindor or otherwise, he'd make generations of pranksters. Because his nieces and nephews could be in any house. Hermione's children, whether they were with Ron or with someone else, they would definitely be brave, smart, sly, and gentle.

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 **A/N:** _I love anime, painting, and waking up in the morning to reviews in my alerts. Thanks for reading!_


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